In the Long Run

Walking allows her to get into a lot of trouble more quickly. Within 20 minutes of being in my house, she had torn four or five magazines to shreds, tried to walk down the stairs, and then tried to shake down the gate we put up to block the stairs.

One day I had Firetop, as KL (Key Limey) calls her, in my office with me. She disdained the toys I had laid out for her, and began lurching around the room, looking for mischief. As is typical of any common baby, she has dumpster diver tendencies. She crouched over my trash basket, and very meticulously sorted through it, crumpling and tearing the discarded papers. She found a printer cartridge package to be particularly interesting, and carefully examined it for about ten minutes. Back in the trash she happened upon some ABC (Already Been Chewed) gum and knew just what to do with it. She popped it in her mouth for royal mastication as her father sustained near-bites extricating it from her eight sharp baby teeth.

The Little Toddler Princess granted us daily audiences in which we were enchanted with her baby babble and infectious giggle. We didn’t mind the toys she scattered, the trash she dumped, the cupboards she ransacked, the food she cast to the floor from her high chair, or even the lion riding toy she abandoned that tripped up Grandpa in the dark. Anytime she toddles toward me, arms outstretched, with a big grin on her face, I’ll do her royal bidding.

Posted by Cyppy at 12:50 PM